


The One that Got Away

by justsimplymeagain



Category: Gotham (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Crowley's on vacation, Gen, Oswald is just an umbrella boy, Pre-Gotham Season 1, in Gotham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 23:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13201062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justsimplymeagain/pseuds/justsimplymeagain
Summary: ... or did they?





	The One that Got Away

Crowley was an ambitious crossroad demon, that much was as clear as a sunny day. He knows how to play the game, and he knows how to get what he wants, make the deals that get him the most return.

Hitler. Under his belt. His men. They all belonged to him. 

So does the businessman – Trump. They all belong to Crowley, well technically Hell but he's the one who bargained for their souls. Power. Money. Resources. Simple short-sighted things if you didn't know what to do with those things.

All of his success, it was no wonder that he made it to the position of King of the Crossroads in no time. Well, by the end of World War 2 anyway. But that's another story for another time.

With how busy he can be, he decided a few days vacation is in order. So he took one, in Gotham. The amount of corruption and vileness was soothing. Like a breath of fresh air, he could make a deal or two here if he was so inclined. And it would be easy.

Here it would be for the same three things. Power. Money. Resources. Maybe the odd one, the girl. Who knew, that was what made his job exciting.

Standing on a corner, he was considering his options when a young lad stopped next to him. Odd hairstyle, clearly trying to be something he's not. And a pointed nose. Crowley could fix that for free if the boy just asked. It's been awhile since he seen a nose like that one.

The boy seemed agitated suddenly before turning completely to face him, face twisted in that same agitation and smug disapproval. Yes, this is a boy who's trying to be something he wasn't.

“May I help you?” Proper and articulate, Crowley could respect that.

“That all depends?” Crowley shot back, noting the fact that there were a few more people now standing around waiting to cross the street as well. The boy didn't seem to like them standing to close, and his glower did nothing to make them move back.

“On?!” The boy pushed.

“On whether or not there's something you want more. I don't do things for free you see, and I hardly expect others to do anything for free for me. Although I do prefer it that way, I'm often considered cheap.” Crowley answered, eyeing the boy calmly before walking as the light indicated that it was safe to cross, it was always reliable for him but to keep appearances he crossed with the humans surrounding him. The boy still at his side, suspicious but curious enough to keep in step with him.

Most likely trying to figure out what he meant or simplifying it in his mind.

“Favours.” The boy asked – it may have been rhetorical given the boy scrunched his face as though he was trying to figure something out. Crowley gave him the time to do that, separated and entered a small restaurant leaving the boy on the street. Crowley ordered a coffee; it wasn't the best. But it was drinkable.

Ten minutes, that's how long it took for curiosity to drive the boy in and politely ask for an invitation to sit with his presence, this was a boy who tried to keep an image up of someone with sophistication and superiority. It needed a lot of work. He came across as nothing more than a snivelling child. A joke. Something to not be taken serious.

Crowley offered him a seat and a menu.

“So favours?” Crowley asked, is that the best you could come up with kid? Crowley wanted to ask that part, but he suspects this little wannabe can pick it up just fine. And with the sharpening in his eyes, he did, and Crowley found himself more invested.

Something lingered in this boy. Something potentially dangerous.

“Yes and no. You don't do things for free; favours tend to come freely. At first. Hook, line, sinker.” The kid said, waving his hand off like this was common knowledge, and here in Gotham it probably was.

“Smart lad. What's your name?” Crowley said deciding that this will be the only compliment he'll pay the boy.

“Oswald Cobblepot. And yours?” Oswald asked in return.

“Crowley.” He had no last name, didn't need one. Anyone with half their wits to them in the world Crowley existed wouldn't require one. Of course, Oswald asked for a last name and Crowley kindly informed him that it was unimportant.

They moved on, but it was obvious that Oswald disapproved, but placed a smile on his face and went with it. They spoke idly for a moment, the best places to eat and have a drink. Crowley took note, might even visit some of them. But time wasn't on the boy's side.

“What do you do, if you don't offer favours?” Oswald asked, and Crowley tested the air. They weren't at a crossroad, but Crowley being himself can pull strings where he needs to and wants to. Make a deal in a desert if it came down to it. The middle of a city is nothing.

“I offer up deals, whatever someone wants in exchange for one simple thing. A small thing, they won't even miss it. You see I'm a bit of a collector in that manner, but the price paid at the end of each contract of each exchange is high.” Crowley explained, stupid to explain it like this out in the open and not as hinted as he normally trains his underlings to do. But he's on vacation; he's allowed to be slightly obvious. And the boy is amusing.

Oswald opens his mouth, no doubt to ask more but the phone in his pocket rings and that acted like a fire being lit underneath the boy. In his haste, he almost forgot his umbrella.

Crowley didn't expect to see him again.

But three days later he did.

Caught sight of the boy standing near the entrance of an alleyway panting and ruffled, anger burning in his eyes that spoke of promises of death as he glared after a car pulling away. A classy woman inside of it.

Out of pity or perhaps curiosity, Crowley made his way over and used the umbrella that was laying on the ground to shield himself, and the boy from the persistent ran falling down.

One.

Two.

Three.

It took a total of three seconds for the boy – Oswald Cobblepot to notice him. For a moment he seemed slightly stunned at the fact that someone was holding an umbrella for him.

“Problems?” Crowley asked, humouring the custom of concern but not feeling it himself.

“No. No, just foolhardiness getting the best of me, but that's okay. I learned my lesson.” There was a threat there, a promise. A mistake that he'll not let happen again. A sniff and a wrinkle of his pointed nose before he offered to take the umbrella from Crowley who relinquished it.

“What brings you to this part of Gotham? Surely with how you're dressed, you would be in the upper classed area's?” Oswald stated looking Crowley up and down, and the demon nearly preened at the notice of his own high-quality choice in clothing. The boy seemed to have a refined taste as well but had ways to go still.

What did bring him here? It wasn't the food or the drinks. Wasn't even the establishment with the fish on it, the one that reeked of potential in deal-making. Looking at the sharp-eyed boy who was collecting himself at an impressive speed but not quite able to hide that dangerous something in his eyes.

All of it, festering.

And perhaps this little snivelling child trying to be something he wasn't was something with potential. A deal to be made perhaps.

A thin smile made its way to Crowley's stolen lips.

“Wasn't sure at the start, but now I am certain. How about I offer you a deal.” Crowley offered, and the boy scrutinized him further. No doubt was taking notes of their earlier conversation. Perhaps in hindsight, he shouldn't have been so open with the lad.

Oswald didn't say anything, instead looked in the direction the car went before the establishment with the fish on it. Tapping his finger on the umbrella no doubt doing the math in his head. Seeing what he was willing to give up and what he wasn't, not aware that the only thing he would have to give up was his soul and he got ten good years to have whatever he wanted. Ask right, and you could have it all.

“What's the price, that's paid at the end of each contract. You said there's a price.” Oswald asked, and Crowley hated his own novice mistake, but hey he's on vacation. Nobody has to know anyway. But at the same time, Crowley felt a thrill curl up his spine. It's not often someone has the know how to ask that question.

The boy was smart, probably smarter than people gave him credit for because for all purposes he does come across as a snivelling little nobody. A lackey best.

And then there was that little bit of something in those eyes.

Crowley smiled.

This soul, this soul was his regardless if he made a deal or not. The boy had blood on his hands.

Crowley stepped out from under the umbrella not bothered by the rain.

“I'm going to be honest with you kid; you're something else. You got potential, might even keep tabs on your... progress in the coming years. But I won't make a deal with you for two simple reasons. Reasons that are for me to know. Not you.” Crowley said, and the boy tilted his head with a thin smile on his lips.

“Who said I wanted to make a deal.” Oswald asked kindly, and Crowley couldn't help but chuckle. The boy could have probably talked someone he didn't like into paying that high price. Clever, conniving boy.

“Good luck with your endeavours Mr. Cobblepot, be seeing you.” Crowley said as a farewell. And he will most likely be seeing Oswald Cobblepot at the end of the boy's life and who knew, might have competition to the throne itself.

Crowley laughed at the thought but made a note to keep tabs on the boy and his ingenuity all the same, better safe than sorry.

 

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**Author's Note:**

> Don't take this seriously... I wrote this out of the blue and the characters are probably OOC...


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